


(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To

by thewordsIcouldntkeep



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Old Friends, Oral Sex, Sandwiches, Sex, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordsIcouldntkeep/pseuds/thewordsIcouldntkeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were best friends. Then it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Work of fiction, I don't presume to know Ross MacDonald so any likeness to his actual physicality or personality is purely coincidental. He'd probably hate this but maybe he'd at least be flattered that he inspired it. I spent/spend a LOT of time thinking about what he's like in bed. ;)
> 
> Title taken from a Weezer song.

They’d been best friends for years, and being with her just felt natural to him, like a second skin. They knew each other since before the band got known, so she was always ready to remind him of who he really was, just in case that got away from him sometimes. It rarely did; Ross was a pretty well-balanced, humble guy, in the way that bassists usually are.

She had it all figured out, you see (she’d regaled him with her observations many times over the years, and it always made him puff out his chest and feel warm inside when she did; she made him out to be pretty much the best guy ever). Her theory went like this: drummers were fun and always down to fuck, feast, or fight, but you couldn’t take them seriously – they were either way too into themselves and/or the music, or they were the comic relief of the outfit, almost never anything in between. Guitarists were neurotic control freaks – usually very smart and perfectionists at their craft, but hard to please and typically into something semi-freaky, sexual or otherwise, making them hard to relate to on a human level. Lead singers – sigh, don’t even get her started on lead singers: they were egomaniacal narcissists, first and foremost, but she gave them a pass for that since they put themselves in front of the press’s bullet so often. But they were _so_ used to attention that their requirement of it was heightened as time went on and they got more of it: they were absolutely exhausting to be around during the “off-season” when they weren’t actively promoting something, and she, for one, had no patience for a preening peacock. Bassists, though – bassists were where it was at. They were the engine of the group, the binder, the solid, stable person who kept everyone’s ego in check, the peacekeeper when things got too intense, the person who made sure his bandmates not only had _safe_ sex with their groupies but also reminded them that what they got to do was fucking _fun_ and people would _kill_ to be in their shoes so they’d better fucking appreciate it and stop whining already, and for god’s sake, turn that iPad the _fuck_ down because _some_ people are trying to sleep! (That last bit may or may not have been a direct quote she’d heard him snap at the boys on the night before they headed out for their last leg of a tour, and she gave it the appropriate reverence, complete with ‘angry-papa-bear-Ross’ voice and stern, paternal pointed finger, before dissolving into a fit of giggles, making him laugh at himself right along with her.)

Yes, she concluded, the bassist was always the best one, all-around. You get off with the others and have fun once or twice, but the bassist? The bassist is a keeper; you want him in your life for good. Here she would put her head on his shoulder, sighing in mock-sadness while she reminded him that he was stuck with her whether he liked it or not; it just couldn’t be helped. “Well, if I must”, he’d say, squeezing her shoulder and placing a quick, chaste kiss to her forehead or cheek. “There are worse things, I suppose”, he’d sigh, trying to keep up the charade but breaking easily, eyes twinkling as a broad smile would erupt across his features. “Fucking bassists”, she’d say, grinning back. And they’d go on with their day.

It had been like that from the beginning, since they met at uni. Meaningful exchanges cached in playful banter, the rare argument that was quickly settled, and only one big fight, apologies for which were so immediate and eager and desperate that they vowed to never speak to one another that way again, to spare that awful aching feeling of breaking their own heart as well as the other’s. Always, underneath it all, the strong undercurrent of knowing that they were kindred spirits, two parts of the same whole somewhere, and that they would do anything for the other person, up to and including delivering their eulogy when the time came. Ross’s love for her was unquestionable and immovable, but platonic. The feeling was mutual.

They had become friends hard and fast, the way everything happens at that age. They had been inseparable once, but it hadn’t turned into anything romantic, although others speculated, and the boys had always whispered and winked at him about it. But no, just friends; best friends, really. Hann was the only one who really got it; he understood that you could be close with a girl and share real intimacy without having to shag her, and even if the thought might cross your mind once or twice, it could be dismissed easily enough.

Now that his life had taken this incredible turn, he saw her about once a week when he wasn’t on tour. They had a standing date and everyone knew it was sacrosanct. Mostly Ross would go to her place or she to his and they would eat dinner – eating, it was always eating with him; the man was bottomless, still, at 26, and was starting to show a little paunch to prove it, his metabolism catching up with him - and then they’d play cards or board games and drink and talk, typically throughout the night, the well of their conversation topics never running dry, even after all these years. They rarely left the other’s house before sunrise; there was no point by then. They’d get off on all these tangents and the conversation would wind itself around and curl into shapes from which it was impossible to dismount, and before they knew it, it was 5 or 6 in the morning, their voices hoarse and eyes bleary but their hearts full and minds alight. Might as well rally and stay up the last hour or so, start the day off with a cup of strong coffee together before detaching.

Ross was always so energized when he was with her, even if he was hungover, even if he’d just returned from a hard leg: a gig every night or every other at the least, press junkets, signings, conferences… It was exhausting keeping up the pace their band had set, but as he reminded the others, he wasn’t going to complain; this was an amazing time in their lives and he was grateful. Still, he was excited to be home and decompress for a bit, and she was, as always, his first stop after unpacking and phoning Mum. He normally needed her company like a drug, some kind of mood stabilizer; she had an effect on him that just made him feel like his most authentic self when he was with her. But tonight, it was more intense than usual for some reason, and he wasn’t sure why; he’d been absolutely itching to hang out with her, even cutting off his call with his mother more quickly than normal. It had been about 6 weeks since he’d seen her last, and they had just finished the dinner she’d made them, the consumption of which had taken over three hours with all the gabbing and catching up they’d done.

“Stop scraping the chocolate off the damn plate and let me wash it already!”, she yelled at him playfully, swatting him with the dishtowel. He twisted away quickly to avoid the snap. “Can’t help it”, he said, “it’s fucking delicious. Bang-up job; total triumph. As usual.” Ross eyed her with affection and gave his sweetest smile, dimples carving adorable craters in his cheeks. “See? Look.” He put the tip of his index finger in her mouth and she sucked the chocolate away, releasing a soft moan as she rolled her eyes back in pleasure at the rich dark taste of it. This wasn’t anything unusual for them; they’d shared food from one another’s plates, forks, hands before… but this time - out of nowhere, it seemed - something had shifted. It felt…different. Electric, like the ions in the air were visible.

She opened her eyes to find him looking at her with his mouth slightly open, eyes fixed on where his finger joined her mouth, his body suddenly still, mesmerized. He swallowed and took his finger out, moving it across her cheek to where his other fingers rested under her jaw, dragging a faint line of spit with it. As if on autopilot, without realizing he was even doing it until it happened, Ross inserted his thumb in the place his index finger had occupied. Boldly, she licked it, holding the tip of it between her teeth, not biting enough to hurt, but with enough pressure to keep it in place. Ross’s mouth was dry as he regarded her, cock swelling in his jeans.

He pulled her whole body toward him with that hand and wasted no time replacing his thumb with his mouth, hers to lick and bite and suck at will. Ross kept his hand cupping her neck while the other went around her waist, clutching her hip bone. As their mouths hungrily moved together, she reached up and carded one hand through his hair, the other behind his back, wrapping up around his shoulder. Her breath was coming hot and fast, and Ross sucked it into his lungs and gave it back to her. Minutes passed before they finally broke apart, the dishes all but forgotten.

Ross took one step back on shaky legs, reluctantly letting his hands drop. He didn’t take his eyes from hers but soaked in their surroundings in his periphery: her modest but modern kitchen where she’d fed him so many times over the course of their long friendship; the bathroom off to the side still emitting a pleasant and faintly fruity scent from the shower she must’ve taken right before he arrived, if her still-damp long locks were any indication; the fact that she was clad in just a tank top and boxers – which, on any other day had always been fine with him and had never elicited more than a passing notice, a brief registration in his brain that said, “half-naked woman present” without making him _feel_ anything, but for some reason, right now, had all his senses on overdrive.

His eyes drank in every color of her – the way all the shades of her auburn hair caught the light, the dark blue rim around her otherwise aquamarine irises, how her lips were an impossibly perfect pastel pink that he’d never noticed before. On an inhale, Ross could smell her pretty body wash, but also something more - underneath that, he detected the raw and delicate scent that was all her: warm and heady and far more delicious and edible than anything she could buy from a store and try to cover up with; he felt saliva flood his mouth, just thinking about tasting her skin. What the fuck was happening? Ross didn’t bother examining it too closely; all he knew was that he was going to go wherever this led.

The hairs on his arms and neck stood up, his body vibrating from just being close to hers. Ross ached to touch her again but didn’t know if she would allow it. She’d kissed him back, sure, but that might’ve just been the wine. They had never, even as a joke or an experiment, done anything like this in the years they had known one another, and he didn’t want to mess up their relationship. He treasured her like a prized possession; aside from the boys, she was his closest and most trusted friend. The love he had for her was deep, steady and strong, and the last thing he needed was his suddenly awoken cock (seriously, he wondered, how had he never seen this in her before now? She was almost supernaturally beautiful) to go fucking that up.

“I…uh….I…”, Ross stammered, finishing with a “pfffff” as he exhaled through puffed out cheeks, stunned into silence, unable to find his words. He just looked at her, mouth agape, palms twitching uselessly at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them, which he didn’t. He wanted her flesh under his hands again but waited for her to say something, anything. Ross chewed his bottom lip and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe the Earth could just do him a favor and open up a sinkhole underneath him to put him out of his misery while he agonized.

Suddenly, she started laughing. It was a reflex and she didn’t mean to, so she clamped her hand quickly over her mouth, but Ross’s mortified expression just made her laugh harder. “Shit!” she exclaimed, through giggles, “I’m so” – laugh – “sorry”, she finally got out, doubling over, waving her other hand in front of her face. “I’m not laughing at you, I promise” – hiccup (she had laughed so hard it had converted now to hiccups) – “it’s just” – hiccup – “what” – hiccup – “was _that_?” She watched him while she stood upright again and took some deep breaths, trying to beat the hiccups back.

“I know, I – I’m so, I dunno wh-…”, he stuttered, flushed and angry that he couldn’t find any good words to give her right then. “I’m sorry”, he settled on at last, looking at her helplessly, hoping they could just chalk it up to another goofy misadventure to be placed in the annals of their history.

“No, Mac”, she said kindly, “don’t be sorry. It was… nice”. She twisted her fingers together in front of her. Ross noticed she was blushing and felt a twinge in his belly. “Are we…” She paused. Her hiccups had stopped. There was nothing to prevent her from getting her point across now. Seconds passed and she continued, straightening up, emboldened, “Are we _actually_ …going to, uh…finally do this?”

Ross exhaled in a rush, not realizing he had been holding his breath. What did she just say? Nothing was registering except the faint awareness that he had somehow been granted permission of some kind, and it sprang him to action. Ross breached the gap between them in record time, pulling her flush against him from top to bottom, pressing his open lips to hers all in the same movement. He heard her moan around his tongue as if it was coming from far away; his mind was buzzing and seemingly filled with nothing and everything all at once - all Ross knew was that he had his hands and his mouth on her body, and she was kissing him back and letting them stay there.

They were both everywhere at once, each seemingly trying to make up for lost time exploring the other. Her hands were in his hair, running down his back, tugging at the hem of his shirt to go underneath it, to drag her nails up his skin. Meanwhile, he was cupping the sides of her face, grabbing her ass, gliding his hands up her arms and into her hair, tugging it so her head fell back and he could get at her throat. They were maniacs, frantic as they sought purchase on one another, sucking hickies into necks, biting on collarbones, nipping at jawlines, scraping their teeth along the other’s lips as they sucked them in between their own. They knocked into each other more than once: her head clonked him on the jaw as she raised up from working on his throat, his forehead bashed her nose. None of it phased them; they mumbled swift apologies and rubbed the offended body part, giggling, and went on with it, led by their mouths. It was not slow, it was not delicate, it was not cautious: the two of them making out after all these years was messy and loud and desperate, and couldn’t have been any other way.

She had managed to get off Ross’s flannel, leaving his t-shirt on for now. Wrapped up in each other, they had whirled around the kitchen a few times, knocking her hip into the stove, hitting his elbow on the refrigerator door handle. At one point he was able to pin her up against the kitchen table and grind against her as she brought her legs up and circled them around his waist. He would have leaned her all the way back and taken her right there but she didn’t let him, instead pushing him away with a forceful thrust of her pelvis. Ross laughed in surprise but helped her back to standing, his mouth finding hers again automatically, as if now that it had had its match, it couldn’t bear to be separated for even a moment.

Still seemingly conjoined at the lips, with arms around one another, they moved in an awkward shuffle toward the living room, with her walking backwards, leading the way. In the archway between the two rooms, Ross paused them, and backed her up against the door frame. He could hardly bear to break away from her but he wanted to see her, all of her, to check if she was as flushed and flustered as he knew he was. She stared up at him, chest heaving, hands shaking a little as she reached to grab his arms.

“Still good?”, Ross asked quietly, his eyes apprehensive as he waited for her response.

“Very good”, she smiled at him, rubbing her hands up his biceps to his shoulders.

“Thank fuck”, he exhaled breathlessly. Ross cupped the back of her neck with his hand and pulled himself toward her, kissing her sweetly this time, wet and slow. His other hand found the waistband of her boxers and he dipped his index finger inside, against the warm skin of her stomach. Her breath hitched and her ab muscles jumped, but she kept kissing him, her arms looping around his neck, surrendering to whatever came next.

Ross took the encouragement and brought his other hand down to her waist and with both hands, removing her shorts was quick work. He did, however, pause in kissing her because he just had to watch this part, stare as her flesh was laid bare for him as he slid her undies down her legs. She made small humming noises as she licked around his ear and bit at his earlobe while he stood, looking down, transfixed as her secrets were slowly revealed. He had let go of the boxers once he’d gotten them mid-thigh, opting instead to rub his fingers up to her hips and back, so she shimmied them down her legs until they got to her knees, where they fell to the ground and she stepped out of them. Ross made a defeated, appreciative noise in the back of his throat as her entire lower half was rendered naked.

She bit his shoulder then; he yelped a little in surprise, brought out of his reverie. She took advantage of his momentary lack of awareness and pushed him back up against the other side of the doorjamb. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and held it there, alternately nibbling and suckling at it. Her hands moved down to his belt and she began unfastening it, relishing his strained noises of aroused confusion against her mouth. She got his belt undone at last, and trailed kisses along his cheek over to his ear as his hands squeezed around her ribs. “You ready, Mac?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, low and breathy in his ear. “Ready for…?” Ross’s query was cut off abruptly as she answered by dropping to her knees in front of him. “Fuuuuuck”, was all he could get out as he looked down at her. She gave him a wicked grin and flashed mischievous eyes at him while she lowered his zipper. Her mouth watered. She had only one thought at the time, and that was that she had to get his cock down her throat.

She pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go, and his glorious erection sprang free, bobbing a little as it did. She cocked an eyebrow and looked back up at Ross appreciatively, impressed. His brow was furrowed; she knew that look. He was feeling either nervous or insecure or both. She grabbed his hips with her hands and said, smiling, “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m so happy we’re doing this.” His expression immediately lightened and he put a hand over hers, the other wiping an errant curl out of her eyes. Ross sighed and smiled at her, relaxed at last.

Satisfied, she started by licking his lower abdomen. She’d make pathways from his pelvis up to his belly button and back, streaking a line of spit along the hair there. Still with his hips in her hands, she went side to side as well, trailing a legacy of soft, chaste pecks, open-mouthed kisses, and tiny nibbles as she licked her way along that latitude. She was purposefully ignoring his cock, reveling in the feel of total control she had over him. He was sighing above her, his breathing getting deeper. Ross brought his hands to her hair, moving it out of her face so he could see her better, weaving her tresses around his fingers while she worked on him. His hard-on was level with her chest and would occasionally brush against her sternum, the only contact it was getting. Ross wanted more but knew she was in charge of this part; besides, they’d waited all this time. Rushing her now was out of the question. If they were under some sort of a spell, Ross didn’t want to be the one to break it.

Finally, blessedly, she touched his cock and Ross jumped at the contact. With one hand still on his hip, she used her other hand to palm the underside of his erection and lift it up against his abdomen. She licked a broad stripe from the base to the head, flicking at the slit at the tip. Ross groaned and bent his head down, meeting her eyes. She held his gaze as she licked a circle all around the head of his cock, over and over again, before closing her mouth around it. Ross’s stomach twisted and lurched and his hands fisted into her hair of their own accord and he bucked up into her mouth, just the kind of impatience he’d been trying to avoid. “Sorry”, he mumbled sheepishly, but she only laughed, the vibrations causing Ross all kinds of blissful agony as they hummed along his shaft like an electricity wire.

“Plenty of time for that in a sec, Mac”, she said, as she pulled off, grinning up at him. She licked her hand and began jerking him off slowly, spreading her saliva from the head of his dick to the base. She dipped her head lower and he felt her hot breath ghost over his balls before she began licking them and then sucking them individually into her mouth. Ross flung his head back a little too forcefully against the door jamb and it made contact with a dull thud, but he felt no pain, strung out as he was. He moaned and rubbed his face before daring to glance back down at her, right as she moved back to work on his cock. She met his eyes as she put her mouth around him once more. Ross’s knees buckled and he thought he might pass out, it felt so good. But he caught himself, stood back upright, and used his hands to brace himself on the doorjamb behind him, watching her all the while, trying to hold back from grabbing at her or screaming out in ecstasy, two things he very much felt like doing.

She started slowly, only getting about halfway down each time, flicking her tongue out when she got to her limit and dragging it against the underside on every upstroke. Her hand covered what her mouth couldn’t reach and she twisted it in time with her movements, jerking and sucking him off simultaneously, making everything wetter with each pass. She sped up incrementally but this went on for a good while. As she continued, her throat got more relaxed, and she was able to take more of him down each time. When his cock bumped the back of her throat, she chanced a glance up at Ross. His face was pinched, eyes squeezed shut, his arms flexing and shaking from the grip they had on the door frame, his lips pursed so tight that it was difficult to tell whether he actually had two. Thin trails of sweat made their way down his forehead and his neck; his shirt was damp. He looked…pained. Like he was holding back so hard that he almost couldn’t bear it. She had to alleviate him.

She reached for one of his hands and gently pried it off the door frame, clasping his fingers in hers. Ross opened his eyes and looked down at her, slightly dazed, his breath ragged. Her mouth was still stretched around his cock, lips taut, drool pooling at the corners as she continued to glide along his length. She took his hand and placed it at the crown of her head, and blinked slowly at him once, indicating her assent. Ross’s eyes rolled back and his breath let out on a strangled sound, as if he’d been punched in the gut. Was she really going to allow him this? He fisted his other hand in her hair and stuttered his hips into her mouth, a trial buck that pushed him all the way in. She gagged and swallowed around his cock and her eyes fluttered, relieved. She opened them and looked up at him, giving as much of a nod as she could with his dick down her throat. Ross groaned and began fucking her face in earnest.

It wasn’t long before Ross was at the edge and about to fall over the cliff. She was so good with her mouth, her hands, he was close to coming embarrassingly quickly. She had taken him all the way down several times and choked and sputtered like she couldn’t get enough and still wanted more. It was almost too much to take, and he could feel the freight train of his climax bearing down on him from the base of his spine. He was hunched over her, his hands a frenzy in her hair, strangled whimpers coming from his throat as he tried to hold on, to keep himself from drowning her in his cum. Finally, he gathered the strength to pull her off of him; her lips released his dick with a slick popping noise. Ross’s chest heaved and he sucked in greedy pulls of air, trying to come down. He closed his eyes while he tried to regain his composure, untangling and smoothing her hair in his hands.

“Hey”, she whispered softly, thumbing over his hip and kissing up his hairline to his belly button again, “you okay?” His whole body unclenched at the loss of contact from his cock, and he looked down at her, slightly dazed. “Yeah, I’m…I’m good”, he replied, wiping his face with his hand. “Just… don’t want to come yet, is all”. His breath was ragged. The small smile he gave her was shy, embarrassed.

“Is that all? C’mon, Mac”, she grinned at him, “it’s okay. I want you to come. I want you to come all over me.”

Ross groaned; his cock, already painfully swollen, pulsed and tried to expand even more; he felt like he might burst. “I… I want – I need – to… be in you”, he said, breathless. “Please”.

She smiled and came back up to standing. She kissed him, long and deep, and twisted her hand around his cock. He started at the intense pressure on his sensitive member, but allowed it. He reached around and cupped her ass and they began walking – still intertwined at the mouth – toward the sofa. She had her back to it and at the last second, she twirled them around. Once she knew his knees had found the lip of the cushions, she playfully pushed him down to sitting.

She straddled his lap, swiftly removed his shirt, and grasped his cock in her left hand. She pumped it up and down a few times, thumbing the precome that had already leaked out, swirling it around the tip. She lined his swollen member up with her pussy, and rubbed the head back and forth from her hole to her clit, coating him with her arousal and spreading the wetness all between her legs. His breath came out in tight little puffs, eyes rolling as he tilted his head back and groaned in ecstasy. It was exquisite torture, and while he didn’t want it to end, he was desperate to be inside of her. “Please,” he begged, “Just do it”. She watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he gulped down air.

“Look at me”, she demanded, stilling her hand. He brought his head back up as if coming out of a fog, his eyes taking a moment to focus on her face. She was a fucking gorgeous sight, and Ross’s eyes hungrily took inventory: her hair mussed up with a few strands clinging to the side of her temple with sweat; her pupils as big as olives, blown all to shit from her desire; pink lips puffy and swollen, begging to be bitten and sucked on again by his mouth; a slight sheen of perspiration in the hollows of her collarbones and at the crest of her shoulders, which, in Ross’s opinion, was just asking to be licked away; tight grey singlet hugging her curves, her nipples hard and proud, straining against the fabric. His mouth watered as he pictured suckling each of them through her top, then moving her straps down to taste her exposed flesh without the barrier. He moved to cup one of her breasts in his hand, but she swatted it away. “No”, she insisted. “Not yet. Watch me”. His eyes went from hers to the junction between her legs where she was holding his cock still, brushing feather light touches on his balls with her fingertips.

She shifted her hips slightly and without another word she sank down onto him, sheathing his dick to the hilt. She exhaled a relieved “ahhhh” into his neck as she bottomed out on his massive cock. “Unghhhhh” was all Ross could muster into her collarbone as he felt her tight core envelop every thick inch of him. His head was swimming; the heat of her was intoxicating. He felt like he was suffocating but without the panic; just the humidity of stifling wet warmth robbing him of air, relinquishing him of the need of anything else but her. He needed to come back to himself, regain the control he was losing, had lost in her. He licked his lips thickly as he caught his breath.

She cupped his jaw with her right hand, softly stroking his beard as she regarded him with pure lust in her eyes. She started to move then, ever so slightly, grinding her hips back and forth and up and down, trying to find which rhythm to settle into. She couldn’t decide; his girth utterly overwhelmed her, filling her in crevices she didn’t know she had. She wanted to just stay there with him so deep and full inside her and just pulse her walls against him. But that wouldn’t do. She needed him to fall apart underneath her. She needed him desperate for completion, and stillness wasn’t the solution.

Just then, he leaned forward to kiss her, licking an outline around her mouth and sucking briefly on the cupid’s bow of her top lip. “I could come just from this, you know”, he murmured against her lips. “Just from watching you. You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re like literally taking my breath away.” He gasped and shuddered, as if to prove his point. She smiled shyly at him, looking at him through her lashes. “You’re so big,” she whispered. “You feel so good, I can barely take it”, she continued, then paused. “I want to try, though”, she grinned against his mouth. Forehead to forehead, with her hand still cupping his jaw, she began tilting her hips back and forth in a languid and luxurious slowness that Ross was sure would be the death of him. He groaned at the silkiness of her warmth moving against him, and she greedily sucked his breath into her mouth. He placed his hands on her hips to help her, but allowed her to keep up her torturously slow ministrations. “Oh…G-g-god…”, he stuttered, “you’re fucking good at that”.

Ross felt her grin on his neck, where she was sucking little mementos into his skin. “ _We’re_ good at this”, she said against his throat. She kept up her slow grind for a few minutes before she began moving faster, craving more now that she could feel that telltale white heat curling in her belly. She clutched at his shoulders, his back, her mouth open on his, flicking her tongue into his mouth and capturing his lips in a sloppy, disorganized kiss every now and again, grunting and moaning in time with their thrusts.

Ross bent his head to mouth at her nipple through her thin top, nibbling gently as she gasped and arched her back. His hands slid from her hips up her sides, sliding her tank up as they went, exposing her tits. Her hands clasped around his neck, she leaned back a bit to give him better access. And access he took. He stabilized her back with one hand while the other cupped her right breast, his mouth possessively encircling the left, licking and sucking at the peaked pink bud while his hand rolled and pinched the other. Her breasts were a wonder to him; big and round and firm, and the perfect size for his large hands and his greedy mouth. He moaned as he suckled her, a vibration she felt through her chest, and she cried out from the sensation and ground down onto him quicker and with more force, her hips stuttering. She was on the verge of flying apart, her grip tight around his neck, her knuckles white from the pressure of hanging on to him so hard, her cadence faltering as she got closer to her climax. So much for making _him_ be the one to lose control. She was going crazy; she’d never felt anything remotely like this with anyone else. With Ross, she felt like she might implode like a collapsing supernova and turn into stardust.

He hummed contentedly against her chest as he worshipped her breasts, loving the force with which she had him pinned against her, using his body as an anchor as she pushed them toward the breaking point. Finally, he felt her interior muscles start to pulsate in ripples, and she was able to get out a breathy, “Ross, I’m…” before slamming down onto him and letting out the hoarse screams of her release as her wet channel clenched around his length for what seemed like an eternity. Ross held her through it, his breath warm against her breastbone as she coiled tightly around him from top to bottom, one fist in his hair, one hand grappling at his back, thighs squeezed around his hips, mouth clamped on his shoulder as she tried to muffle her cries.

Ross didn’t want her quiet, though. He loved the sounds she made when she came just then, and he wanted to hear those again. It wasn’t lost on him that she’d called him “Ross”, either. He’d heard it. She wasn’t just coming, she was coming for _him_. Just for him. That was major and he wasn’t going to take that lightly. As much as he wanted his release – and he was outrageously close again - he wasn’t finished with her; not by a long shot. She started to come back to herself then, breathing deep into his neck, leaving light, barely-there kisses. She weaved her hand through his hair as she brought her face back level with his, searching his features. She was well aware he was still hard inside of her, so she started to move her hips again, looking into his eyes. “Are you gonna come for me, Ross?”, she whispered, kissing him. “Yes”, he said decisively, nodding and returning her kiss. “But not now. Not done with you yet, babe”.

He lifted them carefully and laid her gently onto her back on the floor. He looped his arms around her thighs and splayed his hands across her stomach, pressing down and pushing up, placing pressure on her abdomen and exposing her core to him better. Ross dove right in, sucking at her mercilessly as she squirmed and mewled under him, still oversensitive from her orgasm, but he held her fast in his grip and settled himself comfortably on the floor between her legs – the posture of a man who wasn’t going anywhere for a while. His beard rasped against her thighs and he knew he was being too rough at the moment but he couldn’t help himself just then; he needed to get her taste inside of him. After a few minutes he calmed down and began lapping at her leisurely, stroking her tummy as he lazily licked her in slow circles. She began to move her hips, grinding herself against his face in a rhythm as old as time. He looked up at her and saw her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, her back arched up off the floor, her hands clenching his forearms as she lost herself. Ross smiled against her with proud satisfaction: she was writhing and sweaty and desperate beneath him, clutching at him like a buoy in a hurricane; he was both the tempest causing the tumult within her and the port in her storm, a solid and sturdy shelter, settled in for the long haul to help her ride out the waves that crashed over her.

She was surprised at the speed with which she came again, hoarse moans erupting from her mouth as she dug her nails into his arms and squeezed her thighs around his head. Ross kept at it until she was pushing against his shoulders, wrenching him by the hair, begging him to stop, murmuring between gasps, “’s too much, babe, too much, no more, I can’t”. He moved his face to her inner thigh and kissed her there for a minute, climbing up her body, moving his mouth up her groin to her hip, over to her belly, pausing to suck her nipple again before coming face to face with her, hovering his body over hers, scooping his forearms under her shoulders so his hands could cradle her head, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. She sighed up at him, eyes glazed and unfocused, dopey sated smile on her face, giddy, goofy, sleepy laughter vibrating in her throat. Ross grinned down at her and kissed her deeply, soft and slow, letting her taste linger between them. She hummed happily at him in response, canting her hips up, causing his erection to rub against her. He hissed at the contact and groaned into her mouth, in desperate need of release.

“Get in me, Ross”, she insisted, breathlessly. “Now. I need it. I need you inside me. Please?” And it was the ‘please’ that did it, that soft supplication rendering him powerless; he’d never known her to beg for anything, and hearing her do it for him now, Ross registered the shift he’d felt earlier and the realization hit him like a truck, obvious and hard: he wanted to be the one – the only one - to fulfill every wish she had, to give her everything she wanted and more. He shook his head and sighed, smirking in pleasant resignation. He gave himself over to knowing he belonged to her, utterly and completely. He hoped that was alright with her. They were gonna have to have a chat.

She watched him above her and saw his face transition from pent-up restraint to some kind of mixture of humility and relief as he kissed her once more and lined himself up. When he pushed in, all the tension left them both in simultaneous sighs of “Aaaahhhh”, and he placed his arms back where they’d been, cradling her face, holding her eye to eye with him as he began to move within her. There was a different look in his eyes as he watched her, she thought fleetingly, but then again, she was pretty sure she was looking at him that same way. He barely moved at first, content just to be one with her, contained inside her body, snug and safe and warm.

She craned her face up, nestling her hand behind his ear, tilting his face toward hers so she could kiss him. The pressure where they were joined was perfect, but she knew he needed more than pressure, so she began rocking her hips with more force, encouraging him to move in and out of her. Ross whimpered into their kiss like he was in delicious pain, but answered her movements with pumps of his own, removing himself by increasing increments until just the head of his dick was inside her when he would thrust back in. She held on to the back of his neck and kissed his bicep as he hung his head down onto her shoulder, his noises getting louder as his rhythm got faster and more erratic. She knew he was close, and she couldn’t wait to feel him seize up over her and finally come.

Ross was barely aware of anything, but still marveled at how warm and smooth she was, how easy it was to glide inside of her, how well she took him. He wanted to keep looking at her, but he didn’t have the strength to raise his head again. It was all he could do to keep moving at all, chasing the orgasm he’d been holding back for the last hour. He was exhausted, but it was the best kind of tired, and he wouldn’t trade it. He kept thrusting, spurred on by her whispers of, “get it, baby, take all of it, come for me, Ross”, and his arms were shaking and his cock was about to detonate and he was dripping sweat all over her, but he felt her fingers dig into his back, holding him in place, and when her other hand reached down and grabbed his ass, that did it. A garbled moan came from him as the force of his climax threatened to shatter him into a million pieces. Ross sank his whole body into hers, hard, as he spilled his release inside of her, filling her up.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted but it felt like forever, longer than he’d ever come before. Ross slowly became aware again, realizing that he was fisting her hair and had clamped his mouth down on her neck when he came, leaving a large bright mark. She didn’t seem to mind, though. She was still holding him tight, murmuring softly to him as he continued to shudder, his eyes barely able to focus. She started rubbing his back and he began to regain his foothold on reality, breathing wetly into her collarbone, raising himself up to gaze at her face again. She dotted his jaw with kisses before bringing their lips together once more. Ross could hardly find the strength to move his mouth against hers properly, but once again, as ever, she filled the spaces where he was slack and took the lead, kissing him thoroughly, ensuring they were joined head to toe in beautiful unity.

They stayed like that, their poles connected, for a minute or so, before he was finally able to raise up and pull out of her. They both groaned at the loss. He rolled off of her and flopped on the floor to her right, panting still. He still needed contact with her, though, and reached his hand over to hers and entwined their fingers, both of them staring at the ceiling, the sound of their breathing the only noise in the room. “Wow”, she said at last, “that was… incredible. We needed that. About time, yeah?”

“Yeah”, Ross replied. “Finally. Dunno what took us so long.”

She chuckled. “Well, I guess…as they say in Danish, ‘Things take the time things take’, right? So…just wasn’t supposed to happen until now, I suppose.” She swallowed. “I’m sure glad it did, though.” She glanced over at him and cleared her throat, suddenly a bit nervous. “Wouldn’t mind if it happened again, myself.” She regarded him cautiously.

“Absofuckinlutely it’s gonna happen a-fucking-gain. Over and over and over, for as long as you’ll have me,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He turned his head to look at her and squeezed her hand. She was suddenly smiling widely like a right idiot; he loved when she looked so stupidly happy, and a thrill went through him knowing he was responsible for that look right now. “But”, he said seriously, giving her a straight face, “first things first.”

“What’s first?” she countered, cocking her brow questioningly at him.

“Sandwiches”, he said decisively, his index finger pointing. “I’m starving. Plus, gotta fuel up for round two, and three, and…” He paused as she started to snicker, then leaned over and blew raspberries in the middle of her breastbone, tickling her, making her laughter bubble up and overflow; his favorite sound. “Whaddya reckon, fancy some turkey?”

She laughed at him, this fool she adored. “Fucking bassists”, she said, ruffling his hair, smirking at him and rolling her eyes.

“Damn right, fucking bassists”, he replied. “Always taking care of everyone. Never getting proper thanked, either.” He winked and pulled her tank back down.

“Oh, you’ll get thanked”, she said. “Turkey sounds perfect”, she continued, as he leaned up to kiss her lips before rising. He found his boxers and put them on, grinning at her as he headed to her kitchen to make them a post-coital snack. Everything had changed, and yet, nothing had; their relationship was just as trusting and solid and respectful as it always had been, there was just this extra element to it now, a new level of love.

She watched him as he moved around her place like he owned it, like everything of hers was just an extension of him already, and she realized with a deep blush that it was, including herself: she was already his.

_Sandwiches_ , she thought. Of _course_ he would make after-sex sandwiches. She lay there, giggling to herself, giddy. It was so him. Her best friend. Her Ross.

Her love.

 

 


End file.
